


Embarrassingly quickly

by raisedtokeepquiet



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Family Fluff, First Meetings, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Platonic Pining, implicit mentions of past child abuse, though is it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-06 16:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15198365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raisedtokeepquiet/pseuds/raisedtokeepquiet
Summary: AU where Ermal never became a musician, but owns a book shop instead. One day, his path crosses with that of Fabrizio Moro.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic that will ever see the light of day, thanks to all amazing metamoro people who always have sweet words to say about other's writing. So I thought I'd give it a shot too :)

Ermal was looking around his book store. Everything looked tidy and neat, just as he liked it at the end of the day. The last hour before closing had been slow, which meant that he could get the shop to look nice for tomorrow without staying late.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Ermal sighed, and with a glance at the clock went to answer. It was probably someone else trying to order a book. His shop wasn’t big and he didn’t stock a lot of different titles, but he made sure to be able to order almost anything. It had given him a large circle of regular customers and the shop was doing well.

“Good afternoon, _Libri e Lettere_ , Ermal speaking. How can I help you?”

“Good afternoon sir, this is Monica Fontana. I am calling on behalf of the management of singer Fabrizio Moro. We are planning a instore tour and we wanted to ask you if you are interested in hosting a session in Bari.”

“An instore session for Fabrizio Moro? In my store? I think you’re mistaken, I am not a part of any large chain stores, I just own a small independent book store. I don’t think many people will fit in here.”

“That’s no problem. The contract with the chain store ended, and now we aim to promote independent book stores, so in fact it would be perfect. And we’re testing a new system so that people don’t have to queue the whole time. We don’t have any concerns about the size of your shop, in fact, we want it to be small and intimate.”

“Well, if you think there will be no issues, I would not pass up such an opportunity. Do you have more details, though? When would this be?”

“That’s great! I’ll note down that you’re interested. For now, the Bari session is planned at the end of the tour, so it is still quite some time away. We will contact you with more information soon. Of course, you can decline to host any time before the contract is signed. Do you have any more questions for now?”

“No, no, I don’t. I’ll wait until you have more information available. Thank you for contacting me!”

After the conversation, Ermal put the phone down on the counter and stood there for a while. Then he walked up to the door and turned to sign to _closed_. Having Fabrizio Moro in his shop definitely was high on the list of things he never expected to happen.

-XXX-XXX-XXX-

Ermal was watching as the last music equipment was packed away. The day had started early, but what a day it had been! First the crew arrived to set up all the equipment and get everything ready. Fabrizio had followed not much later and helped as well. They had moved the arm chairs to the side, and moved the child’s corner. This made enough space for the music equipment.

Throughout the day it had been busy, but Ermal was impressed with how the management team managed the crowds. Busy, yes, but not overly crowded, and everyone was patient and in a good mood. He had no idea how they’d done it. He’d spent his day watching and listening to Fabrizio Moro, while manning he counter. The singer talked to his fans, took pictures, signed albums, and played a dozen songs, all acoustically. It seemed he was smiling constantly, and his enthusiasm never seemed to dim. Ermal was captivated by the energy he gave off. However, he could not stare unabashedly all day. While most people where there for the music and the pictures and the signatures, a surprising amount also found a book to buy or order. Any doubts he might have had about hosting this would have been wiped away by the amount of customers he’d had, though all doubts had been long gone before that, of course.

“So that was a good day wasn’t it?” A smiling Monica stood before him. They had been in contact frequently to sort out all the details, and she’d been the greatest help today as well, even assisting him at the counter when a queue started to form. Ermal beamed back at her.

“The greatest! I did not expect… this!”

“This tour has been good overall, but today was definitely a good high to end on. Thank you so much for sharing your space with us, and who knows, maybe we’ll see each other again!” She shook his hand and followed the last people of the crew out of the shop before he could say anything else.

He went to the counter and quickly sorted some paperwork. He would look into things in detail tomorrow, and also place all orders for titles then. He shut off the computer and cash register and then walked around the shop for a quick check to see whether everything was in order. He straightened out some books and noted some shelves that needed reorganization. Nothing that couldn’t wait, however. The crew had put the children’s corner back where it was, and it looked the way it should. The chairs were back in their place, as was the small coffee table with a stack of books. It pretty much looked like nothing special had happened here today, even though just a few hours ago it had been full of people and music.

Except – what was that on one of the book cases? Ermal walked over and picked up the item. It was a hat? Probably one of the fans had left it behind while taking a picture. But no, wasn’t the music equipment blocking this bookcase? There’d been a regular customer complaining about not being able to access these books in particular, if he remembered correctly. So then the hat didn’t belong to a fan. Maybe to someone of the crew? Wait, didn’t Fabrizio come in this morning with a hat? Ermal had wondered about that for a short second then, why a hat if he would spend his whole day inside (and besides that, why _this_ hat? He was sure it was possible to find something uglier, but it would be difficult). Well, the best thing to do was to reunite the hat with its owner.

“Hi Monica! Sorry to bother you again, I just have a quick question.”

“No problem, Ermal, ask away.”

“I just found a hat that’d been left behind, I think it might be Fabrizio’s. He probably likes to have it back.”

“Oh, sure! Thanks, I’ll send someone over right away to pick it up!”

After putting down the phone again, Ermal took his stack of papers and brought it over to one of the chairs. He might as well use his time well while waiting. It didn’t make sense to go up to his apartment above the shop and then miss the person picking up the hat. He sorted through the pile and wrote down all the books he needed to order on a separate sheet so that he could enter them in the computer easily tomorrow. As he wrote down the final author’s name, he heard a knock on the door. Great timing! He got up to open the door.

“Hi, it’s great that you could make it this quick- oh!”

“Hi, thanks for calling about the hat.”

“No problem – when Monica said she’d send someone, I didn’t expect it to be you, to be honest, but come in!”

For the second time that day, Fabrizio Moro walked into his store, but this time very unexpectedly.

“It was late, and there was no reason to bother my crew when I’m stupid enough to leave my stuff behind.” Fabrizio clarified, as he glanced around the store. “I didn’t have a chance to look around much, before, but it looks nice. What kind of books do you sell?”

“A little bit of everything, really. I stock a lot of second-hand books, some poetry, some foreign language books, mostly Albanian and English. I always tell people, if they know what they are looking for I can order it for them, and if they don’t, it’s probably around in the shop.”

Fabrizio just hummed in acknowledgement and continued to explore the shop. Ermal scooped up the papers he left on the chair and put them on the counter. He’d expected Fabrizio to take the hat and disappear into the night, but apparently he was in no rush to leave. That suited him fine, the day had been almost magical and he didn’t want it to end. Besides, it was Fabrizio Moro in his shop. He was never going to kick him out anyway.

Meanwhile, Fabrizio had settled himself in one of the chairs, leafing through a book. Not knowing exactly why, besides that it felt rude to not do anything, Ermal asked: “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got some good wine upstairs. – Of course, if you’d rather go…” he finished a bit lamely.

Fabrizio looked up with a smile, “Some wine sounds great!”

Ermal bounded up the stairs to his apartment and returned a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He poured one, handed it to Fabrizio, and then poured a glass for himself. “Salute!”

Before they knew it, they were deep into a conversation that covered a wide range of different topics. Books, music, movies, family, children, holidays, childhood memories. Time flew by as they talked and laughed and sipped wine.

“Could I maybe use your bathroom?” Fabrizio asked after a while.

“Yes of course, you remember where it is, right? Just up the stairs.”

Ermal got up and took the glasses and the now almost empty bottle and followed Fabrizio up the stairs. Standing by the sink in his kitchen, he finally had a moment to breathe and to try and catch up with this turn of events. He quickly downed two glasses of water in an attempt to clear his head a bit. Fabrizio Moro – Fabrizio Mobrici? Surely he wasn’t here as the singer only – was in his house, they had just spent ages talking and drinking wine and it was amazing. He was going to remember this evening for the rest of his life. Here was the artist he’d been a fan of for years, not seen on the television or looked up while standing on a stage, but they were here in his shop, in his house, as equals. Somehow, it was everything he never knew he wanted.

Reshuffling some stuff on his kitchen counters, he waited for Fabrizio to join him in the living room.

“So…” Fabrizio started, while leaning against the fridge, looking at Ermal.

This was it, of course he had to leave now, all great things came to an end-

“I just realized I might have had a bit more to drink than I thought, I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to drive now. Would it be possible to maybe crash here tonight? If not, I’ll just call a taxi, but it would be much easier if I didn’t have to come back here for the car as well tomorrow.”

Ermal noticed Fabrizio started rambling a little. Interesting.

“No, no, that’s okay, I can quickly make the guest bed, you can stay here, that’s fine! It was basically my fault you had all that wine, anyway.” He chuckled a bit.

“Thank you,” Fabrizio said, as he started to explore the room. Ermal watched him, trying to see his space and his furniture through another’s eyes. The open kitchen, divided from the main living room by the dining table. The small tv in a corner, the cabinet next to it, the large couch opposite. The arm chairs, the rug. All the personal little items: the photographs, the souvenirs, the plants, a few books, cds. They painted a fragmentary picture of him, in some way.

“I had expected to see more books,” Fabrizio said with a smile, looking over his shoulder to Ermal, before focusing again on books and other items on the shelf he was inspecting.

“Well, yes, I figured if I spent my whole day around books, I should go easy on them in the place where I spent my free time. I love books, but not so much! I just keep my favourites here,” Ermal explained, walking over to stand next to Fabrizio.

“And these?” Fabrizio pointed at some notebooks next to the novels.

Ermal hesitated a little. “Well…” he began, and then fell silent.

“If it’s personal, please forget I asked, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable!” Fabrizio quickly said to fill the silence, before he moved on to sit on the couch and started twirling with a pen he picked up from the coffee table.

“It’s just… Yes it is personal, but it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I write poetry in my spare time. You can read some if you want,” Ermal offered, taking a deep breath. What was he doing? Why was he doing this. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of what he wrote, not in the least, but it was something else to show it to someone else.

Making a decision, he picked one of the notebooks from the shelf and handed it to Fabrizio, who took it carefully.

“Wow, um, are you sure? It’s an honour that you let me read this!”

Ermal laughed shortly, “Wait until you’ve read something, it might be shit.”

“I’m sure it’s not. What should I read?”

“Whatever you want, I guess, but if you want to know more about me personally, you could read _Lettera a mio padre_ first. Also _Vietato morire_. Though of course, you can read the others too if you want.” Ermal flipped to the right page and then got up. “I’ll be making your bed now, I’ll be back,” because it was one thing to let Fabrizio read his poems, but another thing altogether to watch his face while he was doing that.

When he re-entered the room, Fabrizio was still reading in the notebook. Not being noticed yet, Ermal watched him for a while. Suddenly, Fabrizio sniffled and reached up to – to wipe tears away? Ermal stared and then cleared his throat.

“That bad, huh,” he tried to joke, not knowing how to lighten the mood

“Don’t,” Fabrizio said. “It’s not… You’re writing is great, it’s just – ”. He stopped and looked up with tears in his eyes. “This should never have happened, Ermal, and I can’t think – I can’t think. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“It is what it is,’ Ermal answered, not sure what else to say. He walked over and sat down on the sofa next to Fabrizio. “It’s in the past now, there is nothing I can do now except never becoming like him.”

“I’m so proud of you for being who you are, for writing this. Just know that. You are strong, and you will never be like him. I’m sure you would be a great father.” Fabrizio closed the notebook and handed it back to Ermal, who put it on the table for now.

“Thank you,” Ermal said, and smiled at Fabrizio.

“I sometimes wonder about that, you know, whether I’m a good dad or not. I know I’m not a terrible dad, obviously, but a good dad? Sometimes I really doubt it.” Fabrizio confessed and sighed.

“I’m sure you are!” Ermal said

“Libero, my son, has told me he doesn’t like music, because music is what takes me away from him.”

“Listen to me, he would say that no matter what you do. If you were away on business trips a lot, he would hate business or economics. I think it’s a good sign in a way, him hating music, because it means he loves you more. It means he wants to spend time with you and that he enjoys that more than music. I’m sure for many children it’s the other way around. So that says something about you too. You’re a great dad, don’t feel so guilty. Just make sure to spend time with your children when you can.”

Then he guided the conversation back to more light-hearted topics, because really, he could not bear to see the other man sad for any reason, though his words seemed to help a little. Finally, when the hour grew late – or early, depending how you looked at it – and there were more yawns than proper conversation, they decided sleep would be a good idea and each retired to their room. Fabrizio fell asleep immediately, having the ability to do that in any situation, and the one he found himself in was comfortable, while Ermal lay awake for a while, replaying conversations and scribbling down lines of poetry. He didn’t need a lot of sleep anyway, or so he always told himself.

-XXX-XXX-XXX-

The next morning, after a slightly hurried breakfast, Fabrizio left as early as possible to pick up his things from the hotel and then go to catch his flight home. While saying goodbye, he surprised Ermal with a hug and a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks for everything,” Fabrizio told him, while getting in his car.

“No problem, really,” Ermal managed to say, before the door shut and Fabrizio drove off.

Ermal stayed where he was and waved until the car turned around the corner. Then he went back up to his apartment and sighed. That’d been an incredible night. He still could hardly believe it, Fabrizio Mobrici in his apartment. And he was so _nice_. Of course, Ermal had friends. People he knew from high school, friends from university. Even some of the regulars from the shop he might consider friends as he saw them often and knew them well. But this, he didn’t think he’d ever experienced such an instant connection before. Like he’d known Fabrizio way longer than the mere day. He’d shared things he hadn’t shared with people he’d known for years. There was something about the other man that made him feel safe, that made him feel listened to, that made him feel he mattered.

And now what? The shop would be closed today, so he didn’t have much to do. Ermal looked around the room and tidied up the kitchen a bit. It wasn’t really messy, and he was done quickly. Why not put on some music to fill the silence in his now suddenly very empty apartment? Some music of one specific person… Nothing was going to beat the real thing, but as that was not an option, the recorded version was better than nothing.

He walked over to the shelf where he kept his cds and picked up his favourite Fabrizio Moro album. He’d made it halfway across the room towards his cd-player before he noticed something was different from usual. He looked intently at the cd in his hands. Something was different, but what? – Wait. Was that…? – Ermal stared at the black lines on the cover, that weren’t there before. A signature. He’d never owned a signed thing in his life, with the exception of a signed copy of _The Davinci Code_ by Dan Brown, which had been delivered to the shop as part of a promotion for the book. But he’d never owned anything signed of his own, let alone something signed by Fabrizio Moro. _How?_ He wondered, _when?_ Fabrizio had to have done it either yesterday evening when he was making the beds – but no, he’d been reading Ermal’s poems then. So, this morning at some point.

Amazed, Ermal sat down on the sofa and opened the cd to have a better look at the signature. How had Fabrizio known to sign exactly this album? As he opened the case, a folded sheet of paper fell out. Ermal picked it up and unfolded it. Handwritten text stared up at him.

_Dear Ermal,_

_I hope you don’t mind me signing your cd without permission. It’s a small gesture in return for what you did yesterday. Not only by allowing us in your store, but more so by calling to say you’d found my hat. Some may find it ugly, but Anita has given it to me and I would have been very sad to have lost it. Also thank you for allowing me to stay the night and thanks for the great conversation we had. I’d like to meet you again some time._

_Fabrizio._

Below that was a phone number. Ermal stared at it in wonder. Was this real? Was he imagining things? Dreaming?

Below that was a post script:

_P.S. Please call. No matter how soon or how late you find this._

Ermal reached for his phone. _Soon_ was an understatement. A better term would be _embarrassingly quickly_ , but he found that he didn’t mind. And he was sure Fabrizio wouldn’t mind, either. He smiled as he dialled the number.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabrizio is on holiday with Libero and Anita. In Bari. So they might as well visit a certain bookshop owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On popular demand here's a continuation! I hope everyone likes it. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Ermal decided to put the sidewalk sign inside. It wasn’t yet closing time, but the sign wasn’t doing any good outside anyway. The past few days it had been raining almost continuously, and not just a little either. Today it had been mostly dry, but the sky had looked threatening nonetheless, and very few people ventured outside. Hopefully, business would pick up in the coming days as people needed new books after spending so much time indoors.

He wished the day was over, but mostly he wished he could call Fabrizio. Since that first call the day after the in-store, they had talked on the phone regularly. Ermal loved those conversations, they were just as easy as talking to the singer in real life had been. Well, at least they had had regular conversations up until a week ago, when Fabrizio had said that he was going to go on a holiday with his children, and Ermal had taken that as his cue to stop calling for a while, not wanting to intrude on family time or demand too much of Fabrizio’s attention. So he wouldn’t hear Fabrizio’s voice tonight, but he wished to. How he wished to.

He had just put the sign inside, when the doorbell tingled to signal a customer. Two, in fact. Two children, a boy and a girl, stood in front of the door, looking around. The girl wore a pink dress and looked about five years old, the boy – her brother? – a few years older.

“Hi there,” Ermal said, “Can I help you?”

“Papa told us to each choose a book, he will come here in a minute to pick us up,” the boy answered.

“And do you know what kind of books you would like? I bet I can find exactly what you’re looking for.”

The girl let go of her the boy’s hand and skipped towards Ermal.

“I love princesses! And fairytales!”

“Ah, I have just the book for you! Why don’t you take a seat?” Ermal pointed to the couch in the back of the shop, and then made his way to the picture books. There it was, a beautifully drawn book about a princess locked in a tower, guarded by a dragon. A prince came to save her and kill the dragon. However, the princess was not having it, she liked this dragon, as it’d been her companion for years. The prince managed to unlock the tower, but was then scared off by the dragon he failed to kill. The princess was free to go, but decided to stay with the dragon and together they went on many adventures.

Ermal walked back over to the girl and handed her the book. She eagerly started leafing through it and admired the pictures. Ermal turned to the boy.

“And what do you like?”

“Well, I like architecture? And football!”

Architecture and football, an interesting combination. After thinking about it for a short while, Ermal nodded and walked over to one of the shelves in the corner. He had to look for a bit, but then found the book he had in mind.

“Here, this is a book I think you’ll like!” he told the boy, walking back to the children. “It’s about how different stadiums around the world were built, and why they chose that particular design.”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “That sounds cool! Can I buy them both?”

“Of course you can, that’s a total of twenty-two euros,” Ermal answered, stepping over to the till, and he turned to face the boy again.

“Oh,’ he said with a small voice, and slowly put his book on the counter and pushed it towards Ermal. “Then only her book, please, I just have twenty euros.”

The boy looked so sad, and Ermal couldn’t stand it.

“Well, you know, while you’re waiting for you dad, you could help me in the shop for a while, and I can pay you for your work. Then you might have enough to buy both. Do you want to help me?”

The boy nodded yes, and Ermal beckoned him behind the counter.

“See, I’ve got those stacks of books that were delivered today, and I have to put them on the right shelves. Can you put those books,” he pointed at the ones he meant, “on the empty shelf next to the door? And those on the empty shelf next to the couch, please.”

The boy easily completed the tasks and turned to Ermal for more instructions. He opened the till and fished out two euro coins, and handed them to the boy.

“Here are your wages, one euro for each stack of books, and thank you for your help!”

The boy grinned and handed both coins and the note of twenty euro to Ermal. “I’d like to buy the books, please!”

Ermal smiled back at him and handed over the book he picked out for the boy. They both walked over to the couch, where the girl was still occupied by her fairytale. When they sat next to her, she looked up and smiled at Ermal.

“You’re even nicer than papa said!”

“Your papa has been here before?” Ermal asked.

“Yes, but only once—”. Before she could finish her sentence, the boy had grabbed her book and said “Hush, Ani, I’ll read you the story, yes?”

Confused, Ermal stared at the children, but then shrugged and walked to the counter to tidy up. Now it really _was_ closing time and he hoped the children’s father would show up soon. He didn’t mind the children, but he did mind if they weren’t being looked after properly.

After a while, the doorbell rang again, and Ermal looked up. Was this then the expected father? He stared at the figure coming in. Leather jacket, half open shirt, weird hat, he could hardly believe his eyes.

“Fabrizio!” Ermal rushed to the other man and impulsively pulled him in a short embrace. “I can’t believe you’re here, it’s so good to see you!”

He stepped back and looked at the other man, who seemed slightly hesitant. Ermal’s throat suddenly felt a bit blocked and he cursed himself. Had the hug been too much? They had only met once before, he knew that, but he felt they were close enough for a hug, nonetheless.

“You’re not… annoyed to see me?” Fabrizio asked him, looking up at him.

“Annoyed? Why on earth would I be annoyed? It’s great to see you again! I’m mostly surprised to see you. You never told me you were on holiday _here_.”

“You stopped calling.”

“No, well, yes, but I was calling less because you told me you were going on a holiday with your kids and I wanted you to spend time with them, not talking on the phone to me.”

Fabrizio was silent for a bit, chewing his lip, but then said with a slight smile: “But we always call at night.”

“So?” Ermal asked, confused.

“So, you know what children do at night? They sleep.”

“Right…”

“I have spent the past two days stuck inside, because of this awful weather, doing board games and colouring Disney pictures, with two children who only got more energy the longer they spent inside, and I didn’t even have you to talk to in the evenings.”

“Well, you could have called me, you know.”

At this point, to great relief of Fabrizio, they were interrupted by the girl – Anita, then – who ran up to Fabrizio and showed him her book.

“Look, papa, look at the book I got! It has a princess and a dragon!”

Fabrizio lifted up Anita and walked over to the boy – Libero – and admired their books. Meanwhile, Ermal turned the sign on the door to _closed_ and then went over to the counter to turn off the computer. He looked up at the Mobrici family on his couch and smiled. Apparently Fabrizio had made a habit of walking into his shop at the most unexpected moments.

-XXX-XXX-XXX-

Some time later, they were sitting at a table at Ermal’s favourite restaurant. He had joined the Mobrici’s for dinner at Fabrizio’s insistence, though, of course, it hadn’t taken long to convince Ermal. He was eating his standard order, the lasagna, while Fabrizio had chosen risotto. The children were telling him everything about their holiday and their hobbies and their friends. They were talking so much, they hardly had time to eat.

Suddenly, while gesturing widely to make her point, Anita accidentally knocked over Fabrizio’s water glass, and the water spilt on the table and the floor.

Ermal _froze_.

Libero didn’t, he got off his chair and picked up the glass, which was miraculously unbroken.

“I’m sorry, papa!” Anita said, looking at Fabrizio.

“Don’t worry, _amore_ , these things can happen to anyone. Now we just know to be a bit more careful when there are full glasses on the table, right?” He started patting dry the table with his napkin, while a waitress came over to help and dry the floor.

“Anita, what do we say?” Fabrizio prompted gently.

“I’m sorry,” the little girl said politely.

“That’s okay, it’s just water,” the waitress smiled at Anita and then looked to Fabrizio. “I’ll get you a new glass.”

While the children bickered over whether it was stupid to knock over a glass, and how many times it’d happened before, Fabrizio looked at Ermal, a bit concerned. It had not escaped his notice how the younger man had reacted to the incident.

“Ermal? Are you okay? Everything is all right,” he said softly, so as not to alert the children that something was going on.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Ermal answered, with a weak shake of his head. “It’s – it’s nothing, as you say, everything is all right.” He produced a smile which was just a shadow of the one Fabrizio preferred to see. He decided to give Ermal some space to gather his thoughts, and he started talking to Anita and Libero about their plans for the rest of the holiday. After a while, Ermal joined the conversation and gave some tips on things to see in the city.

“But Ermal, why don’t you show us around tomorrow? You know everything!” Libero proposed, and Anita immediately made clear she approved this idea.

Ermal looked at Fabrizio to see if he would be welcome.

“If you have time, of course, but yes, what better way than to explore the city guided by a local?” Fabrizio said with a smile, and Ermal quickly consented. Spending more time with Fabrizio and the children was not something he was going to pass up on.

The finished their dinners and dessert, and after paying, they walked home. As Fabrizio’s hotel was on the way to Ermal’s place, they went together down the empty streets. It wasn’t that far from the restaurant to the hotel, but it was well past the children’s bed time, and Anita was almost too tired to move her feet. Fabrizio picked her up and was soon carrying a sleeping Anita, talking to Libero. Ermal walked behind them on the narrow sidewalk, deep in thought.

He would love to spend more time talking to Fabrizio, to get find again that connection they had had last time they saw each other, or even when they were on the phone together. Tonight had been a wonderful, fun evening, but as the children had dominated conversation and he hadn’t really had a chance to catch up with Fabrizio. He looked around and realized they were getting close to the hotel. He would just say goodbye to Fabrizio and he’d see him again tomorrow. Maybe then they would have more time together.

They’d reached the hotel entrance, and Ermal turned to Fabrizio, ready to say goodbye. Fabrizio, however, inclined his head in a clear invitation for Ermal to come inside. He did so without comment, and once they were inside, Fabrizio nodded to the hotel bar.

“Wait there for me while I’ll put the children to sleep? I won’t be long.”

Ermal nodded, and made his way over to the bar, where he ordered two glasses of wine. He smiled, apparently he wasn’t alone in the wish to have a proper conversation.

As he’d said, it wasn’t long before Fabrizio returned and took a seat next to Ermal.

“They fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow,” Fabrizio said,  “I wished they’d always go to sleep that easily.”

“They’re lovely children,” Ermal said, because that’s what you did, but mostly because he meant it. “And Fabrizio, you are a great dad. You told me before that you weren’t sure, but I am, even after just seeing you with the children for a day. You’re doing great and they love you, it’s clear to see.”

“Thank you, that means a lot,” Fabrizio said, and Ermal could see that he believed it. Then Fabrizio added after a short pause, “Do you want to talk about what happened during dinner?”

“Hmm, yes,” Ermal said, talking was okay, but what he _did not_ want to do was meet Fabrizio’s eyes while doing so. He fiddled with his glass while trying to find the right words. “I just, I remembered when I once accidentally knocked over my father’s glass – let’s say he didn’t react the way you did. I know you would never do that, of course, but I –”

Suddenly, Ermal felt Fabrizio’s warm hands softly on his own, stopping his fiddling, preventing another spilt glass this evening.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I understand,” Fabrizio said softly, “I just wondered if you wanted to talk about it, I wasn’t looking for explanations. Just know you can always talk to me, about anything. Yes?”

Ermal offered him a small smile. “Yes.”

Then they turned to lighter topics, Ermal talked about the bookshop and some of his customers, Fabrizio talked about his holiday – the plan was to stay in Bari for just a little bit longer and then go see another city for maybe a week, and then go home again – and his plans for after. He should work on a new album, and had all sorts of meetings planned. Finally, they decided that it was getting late and they’d need their energy for the next day to keep up with Libero and Anita. As they said goodbye, they planned where they would meet for their tour of Bari.

“I’ll see you then, I’m looking forward to it. And don’t be late!” Fabrizio told Ermal with a smile.

“I’m never late,” Ermal answered over his shoulder, starting his short walk home.

-XXX-XXX-XXX-

The next morning, Ermal awoke and groggily checked the time. What?! This couldn’t be, he had just ten minutes to be able to leave on time to meet the Mobrici family. Why hadn’t his alarm woken him up? He double checked the time, but this didn’t help, it was still later than he hoped. He quickly got into the shower and grabbed the first clothes he found in his closet. Well, this at least made it impossible to change his outfit four times like a teenager on a first date. He gulped down a way too hot coffee, burning his throat as he did, and then ran out of the door. Just five minutes late.

Just five minutes, but Fabrizio was not amused.

“I told you not to be late!”

“I’m sorry, I usually never am! My alarm didn’t go off, I don’t understand why,” Ermal tried to defend himself. Then, changing the subject, he asked Anita and Libero: “Are you ready to see the best city in Italy?”

“Pff, as if anything could beat Rome,” Fabrizio said, but he smiled and then added, “So where do we go first, Mr tour guide?”

Ermal took them first to see the castle, from where they admired the view over the city. The view over the city, and, to their dismay, a threateningly dark sky.

“It was supposed to stay dry, at least today,” Fabrizio said in despair, looking at the clouds as if they had made it their sole goal to ruin his holiday.

“Oh, come on, maybe they’ll blow over!” Ermal tried, but all he got was a dubious look in response. And he had to admit, it didn’t look very promising.

“Let’s go, let’s see how far we can get before the rain starts.”

They went past the cathedral and through the narrow streets towards the basilica San Nicola, stopping for gelato on the way. Ermal planned to go to the boulevard so they could enjoy the seaside, but as he was leading them through the streets, occasionally telling stories of his childhood, he suddenly felt the first drop of rain.

“I’m sure it’ll be nothing,” he said, knowing full well that the dark clouds they’d seen earlier had arrived, and that this would not be just some drizzle. And soon enough, it seemed as if the clouds had opened and all water from the heavens poured out at once.

They took some shelter in a bus stop, but with every gust of wind they got showered in rain nonetheless.

“Okay,’ Ermal said, taking charge, “We’ll make a run for the church on the other side of the square. It will be dry there, on the steps in front.”

Libero and Anita seemed to have no problem with this, and Libero took his sister’s hand and together they ran across the square, braving the rain, making the puddles splash as they landed in them.

Fabrizio, on the other hand, Ermal noted, hesitated.

“Are you okay?” he asked him.

“I… I don’t like being out in rain like this,” Fabrizio confessed with a glance at the rain and flinched when a new gust of wind sprayed him with water.

“It will be drier near the church, it is just a short run,” Ermal tried to comfort him, “We’ll do it together, yes?”

Fabrizio took a deep breath and nodded. Taking this as enough confirmation, Ermal grabbed Fabrizio’s hand and together they followed the children, who had already made it to the church.

Once there, they stood there for a bit, dripping, looking at the rain.

“What are we going to do now? Will we stay here long?” Anita asked, while tugging Ermal’s sleeve, as if the rain was there on his invitation and a planned part of his tour through Bari.

“Let’s see what the weather will be like,” Ermal said, and got out his phone to check the rain. He sighed, and showed Fabrizio the screen.

“Doesn’t seem to stop anytime soon,” he grumbled, and glared at the sky.

“I know something we could do,” Ermal said softly to Fabrizio, looking at Libero and Anita, who had started playing just out of earshot. Good. He wanted Fabrizio to agree first without getting their hopes up. “We could go to the indoor playground, I’m sure the children would love it, and they can get rid of some of that extra energy.”

“That’s a great idea, they would love that!” Fabrizio beamed at him. “Is it easy to get there?”

“Yeah,” Ermal nodded, “We can just take a bus. You tell them, I’ll buy some umbrellas so we’ll get to the bus not completely soaked.”

Before Fabrizio could respond, Ermal had dashed back out into the rain and went to one of the kiosks on the side of the square. Soon he was back with two umbrellas.

“We’ll share them,” he said as he handed one to Libero and Anita, and kept the other for himself and Fabrizio. “Are you ready? Let’s go to the bus!”

-XXX-XXX-XXX-

They had made it to the indoor playground relatively dry, and they were lucky: The bus arrived just a few minutes after they’d reached the stop. Now they were inside and had hung up their coats over some chairs. Libero quickly joined a group of children around his age who played something involving bandits and police officers, and inexplicably, dinosaurs.

That left Anita, who jumped up and down excitedly, “Can we go now? It’s so much _fun_!”

“We?” Ermal asked, clueless, while Fabrizio already started chuckling.

“Yes, we! Papa always comes with me, so you have to as well!”

Ermal looked with apprehension at the playground structure. It looked like a colourful jungle that he wasn’t sure he was going to get out of alive. But how could he say no to Anita? He took a deep breath and his shoes off.

“I’m ready,” he said, ignoring Fabrizio’s face that showed he thought otherwise. But, Ermal thought, if Fabrizio could do this, _he_ definitely could, being not as old as Fabrizio and all that.

The two men followed Anita, who entered the playground and chose the way. Her goal was to get as high up as possible. They made their way across rope bridges, stooped over, as the jungle was definitely not made for 1.84m tall adults. They had to snake their way through rolling cylinders of foam and Ermal and Anita spent a good few minutes laughing at Fabrizio almost getting stuck between the cylinders, but Ermal quickly stopped laughing when he saw the next obstacle was a net that they had to climb over. Here Fabrizio was surprisingly elegant in making his way across, while Ermal got his feet stuck multiple times. Now he was the one being laughed at. Though, really, could he blame them? It probably looked ridiculous.

After squeezing through some tiny triangles in the floors to get higher, they had finally made it to Anita’s destination: the top floor connected to the safe ground outside the jungle by a slide. One of those tubular, spiralling, covered, plastic slides. Ermal could already feel the static energy and he hadn’t even touched the thing yet. Fabrizio better appreciated the things he did to keep Anita happy.

“This is so much fun!” Anita squealed, and went down the slide, giggling all the way.

That left Fabrizio and Ermal on the platform, looking at each other. Fabrizio stepped forward.

“Well, at least it’s better than going back the other way,” Fabrizio said as he pushed himself down the slide.

“Is it? Is it really,” Ermal muttered darkly as Fabrizio disappeared around the first corner. He waited a bit and then accepted his fate and made his way down the slide. Finally at the bottom, Fabrizio helped him up.

Ermal could feel his hair sticking up like crazy from the static energy where it had brushed the top of the slide.

“You look ridiculous,” Fabrizio told him with a fond smile, as he ruffled his hair. Before Ermal could react, Anita had dragged Fabrizio over to the trampolines to show him how high she could jump.

Ermal slowly followed them, uselessly patting his hair, feeling a slight blush creep up his cheeks. That was also because of the static energy, he was sure of that. Nothing else.

Libero also made his way over to the trampolines, and Fabrizio and Ermal watched the children jump and have fun.

“This really was a great idea. Thank you!” Fabrizio told Ermal, as they stood leaning against a wall in otherwise companionable silence.

Ermal just smiled at Fabrizio in response. That wide smile that put the sun to shame, that wide smile Fabrizio loved so much. He couldn’t help but grin back.

-XXX-XXX-XXX-

The next day, the bookstore was open and Ermal couldn’t spend another day with the Mobrici’s, even though he wanted to. Still, he loved being in the bookshop. The weather was a bit better, and as he’d predicted, many people stopped by to buy or order a new book. As such, the day flew by and he hadn’t much time to think about what Fabrizio and the children would be doing.

After closing, he quickly went to the supermarket to get some groceries for dinner. As Fabrizio, Libero, and Anita would be leaving early the next day, Ermal had invited them for dinner at his place to spend some last time together before saying goodbye. He wanted to invite them in his home, rather than go to another restaurant, but it was only after giving the invitation that he remembered he was not that good at cooking. A bit of a disaster sometimes, really. He planned on making just a simple pasta dish, served with bread on the side. Then nothing could go wrong. Or so he hoped. Well, either his guests would be early and he could maybe get Fabrizio to help – he had children, he would be able to cook a simple meal, right? – or he would be alone and could call his mother for help. She’d ask so many questions, he knew that, but it was a price worth paying if it meant presentable – edible – food.

Miraculously, he had things completely under control when Fabrizio and the children arrived, and the food was almost ready. Ermal was really proud of himself. Then a thought crossed his mind, what if Fabrizio or one of the children didn’t like his meal?

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, however, as he let his guests up the stairs to his apartment. Like the last time he was here, Fabrizio was wearing some awful hat. Ermal smiled upon seeing it, Fabrizio could say all he wanted that Anita picked them out, but Ermal had seen the little girl’s fashion sense in action and he knew it wasn’t _that_ bad. So he had a suspicion that Fabrizio only used her as an excuse to be able to wear those ugly hats, which were all his own idea.

Libero came up to him and handed him a box. Ermal looked at it.

“Biscotti?”

“Papa said it would be polite if we brought something, so here’s dessert!”

“We wanted to bake them ourselves, but the hotel room didn’t have an oven,” Anita added, sadly, “So these are just from the store.”

“Thank you! Let’s save them for after dinner,” Ermal put them on the kitchen counter, and then finished laying the table. He then took the food and called the other to dinner.

“I hope you all like it!” he said, while he started filling plates.

Luckily, they all did, and it made Ermal so happy. This whole evening made him happy, actually. He didn’t often have people over, let alone for dinner, but it felt _right_. He didn’t know why, it just did. In that way it reminded him of that evening with only Fabrizio. Then too, it had felt right, it had been easy. He wondered what he had done to deserve this amazing friendship.

After dinner, they turned on the TV, where a Disney movie was playing. The four of them settled on the sofa, sharing the box of biscotti. It was a tight fit and Anita’s knee was poking uncomfortably in Ermal’s stomach, but he also felt Fabrizio’s warm arm around his shoulders and there was no place he’d rather be at that moment.

When the film was over, Fabrizio told Libero and Anita to get their shoes and coat, because they had to leave now. When the children were out of earshot, Ermal told him, “You’re welcome to stay a bit longer, you know.”

Fabrizio smiled at him. “I’d love to, really, but it’s better to get the children to sleep early, so we can leave on time tomorrow.”

Saying goodbye was a tearful affair, at least on Anita’s part. She kept hugging Ermal, and telling him how much she’d miss him, and she made him promise to visit them in Rome soon. Then she could show him her city. Libero also hugged him, and thanked him again for finding such a cool book for him, he was going to show it to all his friends. Then only Fabrizio was left.

“Thank you for spending so much time with us, and showing us Bari. I wasn’t sure if you would be happy to find us on your doorstep,” Fabrizio said, as he moved in for a hug. A long hug. Ermal couldn’t get his mind to process both the hug and formulate a response, so it was a bit late when he finally answered.

“I enjoyed spending time with you a lot! I loved showing you my city. Too bad the weather wasn’t good. It usually is, you were just unlucky, I guess.”

“Not unlucky, you were there,” Fabrizio mumbled under his breath, and Ermal was wondering if he had heard him correctly. Then Fabrizio continued, “Next time, you should come to Rome, and I can show you around there,” he echoed Anita’s invitation from before.

Then it was really time to leave, and Ermal stood on the pavement waving until the family had turned the corner and disappeared from sight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time it's Ermal's turn to visit Fabrizio in Rome. And Ermal has some realizations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's Chapter 3! I got a bit carried away with describing the touristy stuff, but I hope you like it. There's one more chapter to come :)

Ermal had barely taken two steps away from the counter, before the phone started ringing. Again. All morning he had been getting calls from customers looking for specific books. And he didn’t mind it, not at all, but it would be nice if he could get some other things done as well. With a sigh, he stepped back behind the counter and picked up the phone.

“Good morning, _Libri e Lettere_ , Ermal speaking. How can I help you?”

“Good morning. I am looking for a book, and I was hoping you could help me,” the voice on the other side of the line said. It sounded polite enough, but really, couldn’t people introduce themselves?

“You are calling the right place, sir,” Ermal answered, “What kind of book are you looking for?” Please let it be someone who could give a decent description of the plot, or who knew the author’s name. Suddenly he had vivid flashbacks to a different call this morning, where the lady on the phone was looking for “a book about knitting, you know, the famous one” but who was unable to give any more details than that. It had been a challenging conversation, to say the least.

“I’m looking for a book of poetry. Amazing poetry, really. I’m not sure if it has been published yet, though.”

“A book of poetry, possibly unpublished. Do you by any chance know the author’s name, sir?” He tried to keep his impatience out of his voice, he really did. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded, however.

“Oh, I do,” the man on the other side of the line chuckled, and it sounded surprisingly familiar. “In fact, I think I might be speaking to the author right now. Hi, Ermal.”

“Fabrizio? Fabrizio, why are you calling the shop?”

“Well, as much as I’d like to say I’m a romantic fool who has your personal number memorized, I haven’t. My mobile phone ran out of battery, and I left my charger… somewhere.”

“Meaning you lost it?” Ermal specified.

“I might have. But I wanted to ask you something.”

“Hmm?” Ermal inquired eloquently, still trying to wrap his head around the conversation and the words “I’d like to say I’m a romantic fool” spoken by Fabrizio Moro. To him.

“Some events have suddenly been cancelled, which leaves me with almost a week of free time at the end of the month. I was wondering, could I perhaps convince you to visit me?”

-XXX-XXX-XXX-

Ermal awoke in an unfamiliar room, but quickly remembered where he was. Rome. Fabrizio’s guest room. It hadn’t taken much to convince him to visit, and he’d arrived quite late last night. They’d gone for dinner at one of Fabrizio’s favourite restaurants and then had a quiet evening watching television. Ermal quickly got up and threw on his clothes. He found Fabrizio already busy in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Fabrizio said as he inclined his head towards the table, “Have a seat, the coffee is almost ready and I’ll join you.

Ermal did as he was told and took a seat at the table, Fabrizio joining him a minute later, putting a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

“Have you been awake long?” Ermal asked him, breathing in the comforting smell of the coffee.

“A short while, I had just enough time to go to the bakery down the street to get breakfast,” Fabrizio said, and nodded towards the paper bag lying on the table. “I bought some croissants, but if you rather have toast or cereal, that’s also possible.”

Breakfast was a slow and relaxed affair, they were talking about everything and nothing, and at one point Ermal made Fabrizio laugh so hard he almost choked on some croissant flakes. Finally, when they were finishing up with some fruit, Ermal asked Fabrizio if he had planned anything for the day.

“Have you ever been to Rome before?” Fabrizio asked Ermal, wiping his fingers on a napkin.

“Yes, sure,” Ermal answered, a bit lost.

“I mean, have you ever been to Rome as a tourist? Seen all the things those busloads of tourists come to see?”

Ermal had to admit he’d mostly been to Rome for business related things, and not just for a holiday.

“Then that is what we will do,” Fabrizio said.

They drove the car to the outskirts of the city and then went on by bus. They got off at the Altare della Patria and slowly made their way through the crowds towards the Colosseum. They didn’t brave the queue to get inside, but admired the outside of the ancient building, and the Arch of Constantine. They evaded the street vendors selling cheap souvenirs and looked amused on as ‘real’ gladiators complete with modern watches and smartphones tried to convince tourists to take a picture with them – and pay, of course.

When they’d seen enough, Fabrizio steered Ermal to one of the entrances to the Roman Forum, and they wandered the paths. They didn’t talk much, but both enjoyed their company and their surroundings.

Ermal felt almost overwhelmed, the history was so _tangible_ , he loved it. Yes, many of the old buildings were nothing more than some stacks of stone, not at all recognizable as the important buildings they once were, but the columns and arches and parts of buildings that were still there had been there for millennia.

These tourists attractions had one big advantage, Fabrizio mused. Because of all the tourists, he was hardly recognized at all and he enjoyed this sense of anonymity for once. He also loved to take Libero and Anita to the Forum, both were amused by all the stories that could be told, and the former also was interested in the architectural styles that could be found there. Looking at Ermal, he could see that the other man also enjoyed himself, in awe by the sheer sense of history around them.

They continued on the Palatine with its ruins of old palaces. Finally, they made it to the south side of the hill and Fabrizio crossed the road and then led them down some stairs into a grassy, gravelly field. It didn’t look like much now, even though in the time of the Roman Empire, chariot races would have been held here. It would have looked a lot more imposing than it did now. Ermal wondered why Fabrizio would take them here, but followed him without comments nonetheless.

However, he couldn’t keep quiet when he saw that Fabrizio was leading them towards some food trucks on the side of the Circus.

“Really?” he asked, arching a non-existent eyebrow.

“We’re tourists today, aren’t we?” Fabrizio replied and grinned, “No, this is very good pistachio gelato, you’ll see.”

He proceeded to buy two cups and they ate them sitting on wobbly plastic chairs overlooking the Circus. There were groups of tourists everywhere, and what looked like a group of students on a school trip, accompanied by some teachers. Ermal and Fabrizio watched as the students lined up. Then, one of the teachers, an older man dressed in black, with long, white hair and a white beard – this was a sight to remember – gave a sign, and the students started running to where one of the other teachers was waiting. It seemed a race of some sort.

“Can you believe they get dragged over here, in this heat, just to run across the Circus?” Fabrizio asked, “Poor students, this makes them regret ever signing up for school trips.”

“Yes,” Ermal agreed, “I’d much rather sit here eating ice cream with you, watching them struggle. Admit it, it is rather amusing.”

When the group had left, and their ice was gone, they continued their tour of Rome’s touristic highlights. Wanting to escape the incessant heat of the sun for a bit, they made their way to a nearby church, that was built in the fifth century, and whose original doors showed the oldest known picture of Christ’s crucifixion. Ermal only stared at Fabrizio when he told him those facts, wondering where this knowledge had come from.

Next to the church was a small park with a magnificent view of the city and the Tiber below, and they spent some time there, Fabrizio pointing out different highlights, and Ermal dutifully looking at where his finger pointed – and maybe sometimes just at his face, because really, would another roof really be more beautiful?

Instead of immediately continuing their walk, Ermal proposed to just rest a bit in the shade of the orange trees in the park. He rested his head against a tree trunk, staring up at the blue sky filtering through the leaves above him. Fabrizio lay down next to him, his head on Ermal’s legs.

“You’re quite the tour guide,” Ermal said, fighting the urge to run his fingers through Fabrizio’s hair, it looked so soft and inviting.

“Hmm, do you like it?”

“I love it. What else do you have in store?”

“That’s a surprise,” Fabrizio said as he turned his head and looked at Ermal.

“Will it involve more interesting facts about churches?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ermal noticed that he’d made a mistake, somehow. He felt Fabrizio tense and he watched helplessly as the open expression in Fabrizio’s eyes shuttered and closed. Completely.

“Don’t – don’t mock me,” he almost whispered, not meeting Ermal’s eyes.

Ermal pushed himself to sitting and grabbed Fabrizio’s hand.

“Wait, Fabri, no, I wasn’t making fun of you – I really liked what you told me, I did! Fabrizio, look at me, it was really, really interesting, and it makes this tour so much better. I’m serious. Please, Fabri, talk to me.”

Fabrizio looked up slowly.

“Do you mean that?”

“I do! Listen, others might just have showed me a church, but you told me how old it was and how it was built and you told me about the doors which are the original doors from the fifth century, Fabrizio, those facts make it special. And _you_ know those facts, that makes you special. I am enjoying you showing me Rome so much, please don’t ever think I would make fun of you.”

Fabrizio seemed to accept that and they settled back down in the same positions as before. This time, Ermal couldn’t stop himself and ran his fingers through Fabrizio’s hair. Yes, just as he thought, the strands slid soft and perfect through his fingers.

“Tell me, how did you learn so much about that church?”

“I’m actually really interested in Rome’s history, so I read a lot. Some facts stuck. I really like this church, the inside is so dark and calming because of the windows. It doesn’t have those decorations that only scream at you like some other churches do.”

“Did you know that just last week I ordered a book on Rome’s least well-known churches and their history? I can’t believe it, it’s such a coincidence. I think you would love it. I’ll mail it to you!”

“Thank you!”

“Can you tell me about other places you like?”

“There are so many, I’ll just tell you about some of the churches, while we’re on that topic. I really like this church close to the Pantheon. It is actually the only gothic church in Rome, and parts of the ceiling are painted dark blue with golden stars, it’s beautiful. And there’s a small church, just behind the Santa Maria Maggiore, no one knows it’s there, but it’s the oldest place of Christian in worship in Rome, with, according to some, the most beautiful mosaics in the city. What’s really cool is that the church itself is from the second century, which is already so old and it’s a miracle it is still standing, but you can still see the foundations of the bath house that was there before that. It’s amazing.”

Ermal loved to hear Fabrizio talk so excitedly about the churches. Or about anything, really, anything he said was mesmerizing.

“Do you think you can show me?”

Fabrizio got up and then helped Ermal up as well.

“Definitely. Come on!”

-XXX-XXX-XXX-

The next morning, Ermal awoke, again to find Fabrizio already in the kitchen, again to find a paper bag of croissants on the table. He usually awoke so much earlier than this, something in Rome made him sleep so much longer and _better_ than he had in a long time. It was probably because he spent the whole day outside and on his feet yesterday.

During another relaxed breakfast, Ermal asked if Fabrizio what they would do today.

“I really liked it when we visited you in Bari and you showed us around and told all those stories about your youth, so I thought I’d return the favour and show you around in the neighbourhood where I grew up – if you’d like that?”

“Of course, I’d love to hear your stories too!”

After clearing the table, they took the car and made their way to Fabrizio’s old neighbourhood.

“So your family is still living here?” Ermal asked, “Will we visit them?”

“We might say hi if we see them, but I wasn’t planning to spend a lot of time with them. Last time I saw you I had to share you with my family, now I just want you for myself!”

Ermal let Fabrizio lead him through the narrow streets, listening to the stories he told. They walked by his old school, the places he hung out with his friends, the apartment building he used to live in. Today Fabrizio was recognized a lot more than yesterday, but many people he had known for years, and he didn’t mind at all. They bought some lunch at a café and ate it sitting on a bench in a park nearby. After enjoying the shade in the park for a bit, they continued their way.

“That bar there is the bar where I used to play my first shows, really small ones, and only because my parents were good friends with the owner.” Fabrizio pointed at a bar on the opposite side of the street.

“Would you like to go in?” Ermal suggested.

“I don’t think they’re open yet. But I remember the first show I ever played there. It was really early in the evening and there were only a dozen people, most of them family. Still, I was so nervous, I wanted so badly to prove that I could do this.”

“And look at you now,” Ermal said softly, inexplicably proud in some way, “You showed them all that you can do it!”

As they were talking, an old man came out of the bar and walked straight up to them, pulling Fabrizio in a hug.

“Fabrizio Mobrici! Is it really you? I can’t believe I’m seeing you here!”

Fabrizio happily returned the greeting and then introduced Ermal to the man, who was apparently the owner of the bar.

Minutes later, Fabrizio was deep in conversation with the old man, in Roman, and Ermal didn’t understand a word. He leaned against the wall, happy to allow Fabrizio this moment of catching up with old times. Happy to just listen to him talk.

Suddenly, the realization hit him that he would be happy every single second if he could listen to Fabrizio talking for the rest of his life. If he could wake up to breakfast with Fabrizio every morning. Listen to Fabrizio’s partially finished songs every time he let him. He didn’t even mind terribly that he would have to move out of Bari to make it so. He felt Fabrizio’s hand on his shoulder. Yes, he’d take that too, not just his shoulder, but Fabrizio touching him. Everywhere. Yes, he would be happy.

“Ermal?”

Fabrizio saying his name? He’d drop everything to keep that forever.

Then he felt himself being shaken a bit and he came back to the here and now with a start.

“What is… I… I’m sorry, I was just…”

“Bored out of your mind? Come on, we’ll go. I’m sorry, I got carried away a bit there, I didn’t mean to exclude you like that. He asked me to come to the bar tonight, just to play a few songs as a surprise for everyone there. I kind of agreed already, but of course if you’d rather do something else tonight, we will, and I’ll cancel. – Ermal?”

“No, no, the bar is fine, I’d love to listen to you play as well, we’ll go there tonight!’

Ermal decided to ignore this feelings, his realizations, for now, and focus on Fabrizio, who was guiding him through the streets, talking as they went on. He would have time to sort through is thoughts later.

They easily filled the time until dinner, which they had at a small restaurant where they clearly also knew Fabrizio from when he was younger. Somehow, time flew by and before they knew it, it was time to go back to the bar.

Fabrizio was handed a guitar and started to play his songs. The bar was not busy at the beginning, mostly regulars, old men who probably had been there in exactly the same position when Fabrizio played his first shows there. As the evening went on, though, it became busier and busier, people clearly coming especially to hear Fabrizio play.

Ermal looked at Fabrizio, who was having the time of his life. It was clear to see how much he loved to play his songs for an audience, and the home advantage made it even better. Ermal was reminded of the other time he had heard Fabrizio play his songs acoustically, that first day he met him, during the in-store in his bookshop. He felt the realizations from before push up again, and he wasn’t able to ignore them, not while he could stare at Fabrizio as much as he wanted, listen to him play and sing with that beautiful voice of his. He felt butterflies in his stomach every time Fabrizio searched his audience only to look at him and smile at him. He felt almost overwhelmed by his feelings and worried how he was ever going to conceal this from Fabrizio. He didn’t want to mess up their friendship, he didn’t want this to change only because he couldn’t keep his feelings under control. Tomorrow evening he would take the train back to Bari, and he was almost relieved that it was that soon. Not that he wanted to go, no, he wanted to stay in Rome forever if he could, but now he had only one day where he had to pretend that his whole world hadn’t shifted. Once more, Fabrizio’s eyes met his, and Ermal smiled at him. And if that smile was slightly shaky, he trusted that Fabrizio wouldn’t notice in the bar’s dimly lit interior.

-XXX-XXX-XXX-

The next day, they had a late start, as they’d only arrived back at Fabrizio’s late at night. At breakfast, or brunch, rather, Ermal could see in Fabrizio’s eyes that he had really enjoyed last night. He himself had, too, and he told Fabrizo so.

“I was a bit worried you’d be annoyed I’d hijacked your holiday. First me talking in Roman, even though I knew you wouldn’t understand and then dragging you along to the bar as well…”

“Fabrizio, nothing you could have showed me in Rome would have been better than your playing yesterday. Really, I had a great time!”

“I’m glad of that. You’re train is only tonight, isn’t it? Do you want to come along while I pick up Libero and Anita?”

“Of course, I’d love to see them again.”

 As it turned out, Libero was playing at a friend’s home, he would have a sleep-over, and it was agreed that he would be dropped off at Fabrizio’s house the next day. That left Anita, and she squealed and launched herself into Ermal’s arms.

“Ermal! Are you really here? How long will you stay?”

The little girl’s disappointment was almost too much to take, when they told her Ermal would have to leave at the end of the day. To cheer her up, they decided to take her to a small cinema that always had a Disney movie playing.

They bought three tickets at the counter, and the cashier smiled at Anita.

“Have fun with your dads! Enjoy the movie!”

Ermal’s heart stopped when he registered the words, he panicked, because what should he do? How did he make it clear that he and Fabrizio were not together? That, as far as Fabrizio was concerned, they were only friends? He couldn’t let Fabrizio guess his feelings, it would end in disaster. So he had to do something, had to _say_ something –

“They’re not my dads, he’s papa’s friend!” Anita said, while tugging on Ermal’s hand, saving the situation, saving him, while using that tone only small children get away with, that tone that says “how could you _ever_ think of something so _stupid_ ”.

As they walked through the cinema, Ermal studiously avoided looking at Fabrizio, afraid his feelings were too clearly visible on his face or in his eyes. He listened to Fabrizio laughing and making some jokes with Anita. His heart clenched, he wanted to keep this so badly, be a part of this life, this family. But he’d be on a train home in just a few hours, and he wouldn’t see Fabrizio for ages, probably. In his mind, the distance between Rome and Bari grew to be bigger than that between the Moon and the Earth – but then he shook his head, this was not the time to dwell about this. There was still some time left, he still had some time to spend with Fabrizio and Anita. And he should really stop being so quiet, so deep in thought, because soon Fabrizio would ask if something was wrong. And many things were not right, not like he would want them, but he _couldn’t_ let Fabrizio know, especially not right now. It would be just too easy to connect the dots.

Instead, he focused on Anita, he should give her some attention while he was here and it would hopefully keep his thoughts away from Fabrizio. He loved to hear her talk and giggle. When the movie finally started, he was glad of the darkness in the room and the little girl separating him and Fabrizio. That, and the movie, distracted him from his feelings, his thoughts, his _wishes_ and he could pull himself together enough to behave normally after the movie. He was pretty sure he managed to convince Fabrizio that nothing was going on.

He even survived saying goodbye at the train station. Here, as well, Anita was his saviour, as she filled any silence with chatter and hugged him until the train threatened to leave without him. That left only a quick hug with Fabrizio, and a promise to call soon.

On the train home, Ermal filled his time and emptied his mind by scribbling down lines of poetry on paper, trying to work through his feelings now he was away from Fabrizio’s presence. It calmed him down, and he was glad he’d packed some blank sheets of paper at the last minute. Four hours was enough time to get some ideas on paper and start working some of them out to longer poems. He didn’t worry now about writing things that made sense or had any quality to speak of, he just wanted to get his thoughts on paper to sort through this mess and give his feelings a place. Poetry had always helped him with that and it would not fail now.

-XXX-XXX-XXX-

When closing up the shop the next day, Ermal suddenly remembered his promise to Fabrizio to send him the book he had mentioned. He retrieved it from where it lay behind the counter, luckily he hadn’t put it on a shelf yet or someone might have bought it just today. Quickly leafing through it, he walked up the stairs to his apartment.

Putting the book down, Ermal rummaged through the stack of papers on his desk, trying to find an empty sheet. However, he’d dumped the papers he’d taken with him to Rome on the papers already there, and every sheet he found had some lines of poetry scribbled on them. He just needed one empty sheet to write a quick note to Fabrizio to put in the book. Of course, he could use the paper from downstairs with the bookshop’s logo on it, but that was so… impersonal. Like this was just another order by some random customer. Fabrizio was so much more than that.

Finally, he found an empty sheet, and he made sure to double check that. However, now his desk was an even bigger mess than before. He stacked the papers together with the empty sheet on top and put it on the edge of the table and moved on to put all loose things, pens and envelopes, some stamps, in a drawer. Apparently, he had put the stack of paper too close to the edge of the table and the movement of opening and closing the drawer made the stack tumble over the edge and spill over the floor. Sighing, Ermal moved to gather up the sheets and then finally sat down to write the short note to Fabrizio.

Quickly signing and folding the sheet, he put it in the book and put the book in the envelope. Then he went to the post office and sent Fabrizio’s present. He hoped Fabrizio would like it, but was pretty sure he would.

About a week later, Ermal was mindlessly watching television when his phone buzzed on the table. Fabrizio had texted him, had he received the book?

_Hi Ermal, thanks for the book! It looks really interesting! I’m in the studio all day, so I can’t call. But I also wanted to thank you for the poem – I assume it was especially for me? I loved it. X Fabrizio_

Ermal stared at the text, first focusing on the _X_ , how sweet was that, Fabrizio signing his texts like that? Then he read the text again and felt the blood freeze in his veins. Poem? What poem? He had made sure that he didn’t send anything except the note. Oh god, what had he sent him? His mind flashed the possibilities at him, awfully constructed lines that did _not_ deserve the name poetry. Teenagers in love could have come up with better. He jumped up and almost ran over to his desk. There, the stack of papers. How would he ever figure out what was missing?

Frantically, he looked through the papers, some only had a few lines with half the words crossed out, others had better developed text that started to resemble poems. He tried to match the lines to the almost-poems, maybe that would give a clue which poem was missing. Fabrizio had said _poem_ , it had to be one of the more developed ones. Thank god for small mercies. But which one?

His eyes fell on a sheet where most of the text had been scratched out except for two lines:

_Io mi ricordero di te_

_Tra le luci di Roma_

He went through all papers but did not find a more complete version, though he was sure that he had written one. This was the one poem that felt most promising in being finished. It hadn’t been finished though, not yet, and it had never, _never_ , been his intention to let Fabrizio read it. At least not so soon after his visit to Rome. No wonder Fabrizio assumed it was about him. It was. Oh god, what had he done?

Turning over the last sheet in his hands, hoping against hope that he would find the extended version of _Le luci di Roma_ written there, he saw that it was empty. His one empty sheet. That he didn’t send to Fabrizio. He groaned and put his head in his hands.

How bad was this? What did Fabrizio think? How obvious were his feelings, his thoughts? He didn’t want Fabrizio to know his feelings had changed, he didn’t want to lose their friendship. In the text, Fabrizio hadn’t said anything in this text, just that he loved the poem. That was good, right? Possibly, Fabrizio just appreciated the fact that Ermal had written a poem for him about Rome, not a poem about _them_ in Rome. There was a good chance that that was exactly what happened. There was a good chance that Fabrizio didn’t read anything into this. They were friends, just good friends. Yes, Ermal would just pretend nothing was going on. Friends. He could be friends with Fabrizio. This would not change anything. It was just a poem. Completely fictional.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ermal is resolved not to let Fabrizio know how his feelings has changed, and he makes it through lots and lots of calls. But then Fabrizio once more invites him to Rome. Will he be able to keep his feelings to himself when seeing Fabrizio in real life again?

So Ermal and Fabrizio were friends. Somehow, Ermal made it through the numerous phone calls and video calls in one piece. But so many times his body tried to betray him. Against all intentions, sometimes he just stared at Fabrizio’s face when they were video calling, instead of listening to what he was saying. He had a nice face, Ermal couldn’t help it. And then there were the uncountable number of times when he almost, accidentally, threw in a _ti amo_ when saying goodbye. He never did, but there had been some close calls where he could only save himself by faking a coughing fit.

He had made it through the endless number of calls where Fabrizio was talking about his day and what Libero and Anita had been up to. Or if the children were with Fabrizio, they would talk to Ermal and tell about their days and their friends. Sometimes Fabrizio was in a good mood and joked around a lot. Sometimes he was upset, or tired, or worried, and Ermal tried his best to comfort him. Never, though, were their conversations awkward or boring or annoying. Ermal marvelled at that, how could they still have so much to say to each other?

He had made it through a video call with Fabrizio, seated at the kitchen table with Anita next to him, drawing. Ermal and Fabrizio had been talking for almost an hour, and when they were finally saying goodbye, Anita looked up and said, “No, wait!”. She then showed Ermal the picture, which she had been making especially for him, and it was a picture of him, recognizable by a crazy head of curls, Fabrizio, recognizable by his tattoos, and Anita and Libero on the beach. “Because we couldn’t go to the beach in Bari, because it rained, and I know you really love the beach!”. Ermal tried not to cry, while Fabrizio promised to mail him the drawing. It now hung, framed, in his living room.

He had made it through a call with a frantic Fabrizio, because Libero had been crying but wouldn’t tell anyone why. Not Fabrizio, not Giada, and they were worried. So after calming down Fabrizio, Ermal asked if he could maybe talk to Libero. He knew, sometimes it was just easier to talk to someone who was not as close to you. He just wanted to help. So Fabrizio walked up to Libero’s room, knocked softly and explained that Ermal was on the phone. To Ermal’s astonishment, Libero was okay with talking to him. The boy was still crying a bit, but calmed down quickly while listening to Ermal. They talked for a long time, just about nothing in general, because first Ermal wanted to comfort Libero. Finally he asked if Libero wanted to tell him what was wrong. Slowly, he got the story out of the boy. 

Yesterday he had to help the teacher clean up the classroom and water the plants. When doing that, he saw a paper on the teacher’s desk. He accidentally skimmed the text and it was about science and it looked really interesting, so he read the whole thing. It told him some things he already knew, and some things they had talked about in class, but also some new things. But then today, the class had had a surprise science test. And when reading the questions, Libero realised that the paper he had read the day before contained all the answers to the test. He just finished it, but at home it hit him: he had cheated on the test. And didn’t his parents always tell him that it was important to be honest and to own up to your mistakes? What would they say if they knew he had cheated? What would the teacher say? As he told Ermal all this, he started crying again, and Ermal did his best to calm him down. Libero hadn’t meant to cheat after all, and it would all be fine. Then Ermal offered to tell Fabrizio what was going on, and Libero gladly accepted. As Ermal had thought, Fabrizio wasn’t angry, not at all, Libero had just been curious, there was nothing wrong with that. And he was proud of his son, for knowing that honesty was so important. 

In the end, Fabrizio went with Libero to the teacher to explain the situation. That evening, Libero called Ermal to tell him what had happened. The teacher also wasn’t angry, and was happy that Libero was so honest to tell her he had read the answers before the test. She said she should not have let the answers lie around on her desk in the open anyway. She then offered Libero a retake of the test, which he got an A on. Ermal was so proud of Libero, and happy that he could help. Then Fabrizio took over the phone and told Ermal at least a hundred times that he was grateful and so relieved that Libero would talk to him, and once more, Ermal tried not to cry. He wanted to be a part of this family, and have a bigger role than just phone calls.

He had made it through a call late at night, when he really couldn’t sleep and just called Fabrizio to see if he was still awake. He was, and they’d ended up talking for hours, until Fabrizio had pretty much fallen asleep with the phone in his hand, and Ermal also felt sleepy enough to have another try at sleeping.

He had made it through video call where Fabrizio was playing with Anita in the background, while Ermal helped Libero with his homework. The familiarity and the sheer domesticity of that made his heart ache, but he had made it through.

Then, one evening, while calling, Fabrizio seemed a bit more absent than usual. At first Ermal tried to just distract him by telling some funny stories about customers he’d had that week, but it didn’t seem to help.

“Fabri, is something wrong?”

There was some silence, and Ermal got slightly worried.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Fabrizio finally said.

Now Ermal was really worried.

“Yes?” he asked carefully.

“So you know, I’ve been writing and recording my new album,” Fabrizio started.

Ermal nodded, forgetting that Fabrizio wouldn’t be able to actually see that. This didn’t sound like the world ending, luckily. He heard Fabrizio take a deep breath.

“I was wondering, would you maybe want to come over and be the first one to listen to it? I really want to know what you think of it.”

Ermal was sure he hadn’t heard that correctly. He couldn’t have. Fabrizio wanted him to be the first to listen to his new music? He needed some time to process that. Possibly a lot of time.

“Ermal?”

Time he didn’t have, because he was on the phone.

“Fabrizio, I don’t know what to say, I’m – I’m speechless, really. Of course I would like to listen to your album, I would love to! Wow, thank you!”

After the call had ended, Ermal stood there for a while, staring at his phone, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

-XXX-XXX-XXX-

About two weeks later, Ermal stepped out of the train carriage and looked around him at the mass of people on Rome’s central train station. He was so tired and he was in a bad mood. He shouldn’t be, he would see Fabrizio again in just a few minutes, he was going to listen to Fabrizio’s _new music_ , but he couldn’t help it. He was in a bad mood.

It had started on the train in Bari. At first everything seemed fine, it wasn’t too crowded and Ermal hoped that the seat next to him would stay empty. It didn’t, though. A young woman came in and sat next to him, she didn’t so much as acknowledge his presence, or ask whether the seat was taken. And it wasn’t crowded, there were enough empty seats left for her to also sit on her own.

Then, after the train had departed, her phone started ringing and she proceeded to have a loud conversation. Ermal was relieved when she hung up, maybe now he would get some peace. But no, only a few minutes later her ringtone went off again. And that was how it continued, the whole journey. Ermal resorted to sighing loudly every time it happened and glaring at the woman less and less subtly, while imagining grabbing her phone and throwing it out of the train. Wouldn’t that be satisfying? Sweet revenge. Luckily he could limit himself to imagining only, and not act on his wishes. He was polite.

So between staring out of the window at the countryside they were passing through and glaring at the woman, the four hours it took to get from Bari to Rome would have passed very slowly. Only, to make his journey even worse, it wasn’t just four hours. Without any explanations, apologies, or other information from the train staff they managed to be delayed by another two hours. Six hours of traveling, listening to inane one-sided conversations and a god-awful ringtone – Ermal was tired and Ermal was in a bad mood.

What didn’t help was that he was _nervous_ to see Fabrizio. The time since his last visit he had used to process his feelings for the other man, and he had managed to pretend everything was like it was before that eventful holiday in Rome in the phone calls and video calls. But now they would again meet face to face. Fabrizio would hug him, one of those perfect hugs that Ermal loved so much. Like last time, they would have dinner together, have breakfast together. They were going to spend evenings together, sitting on the sofa, maybe watching a movie. If the children were at Fabrizio’s they might play board games.

So Ermal was nervous, because he wanted all that, he wanted all those things to be his every day, not just for a few golden days. He wanted Fabrizio to be his, only his. How on earth was he going to keep his feelings to himself? How was he not going to ruin everything by a touch that wouldn’t be welcomed or words that Fabrizio did not want to hear? How was he going to pretend that what he felt was friendship, when what he really felt was so, so different?

With his bag in his hand, he made his way to where Fabrizio was waiting. He tried to fake a smile, but even he could sense it was a feeble attempt, and he couldn’t shake the dark cloud made up of the awful journey, his tiredness, and his nervousness. He knew Fabrizio would see through that smile within a second and just hoped that it would be possible to just use tiredness as an excuse – well that and the journey, it had been pretty awful, he had a right to complain. But he wanted to be happy and enjoy their time together, not be a grumpy man.

“Ermal, here!”

He was shaken from his thoughts by Fabrizio, who also waved to get his attention. This image was miraculously able to tease a real smile from his lips and Ermal rushed over to Fabrizio and threw himself into the hug Fabrizio offered. He let his head rest on Fabrizio’s shoulder and breathed deeply, inhaling Fabrizio’s familiar smell. If only he could stay here forever.

But no. Fabrizio slowly tried to entangle himself and softly pushed Ermal to an upright position.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eye searching Ermal’s face, cataloguing the emotions he saw there.

“Tired. I had an awful journey. I’m happy to see you though!” Ermal replied, trying another smile, but failing.

“Come on, we’ll go home,” Fabrizio said. “I’ll make a quick dinner and you can tell me about your journey.”

They went to Fabrizio’s car and Ermal didn’t even have enough energy to complain about his driving style. If they’d got to Fabrizio’s home, he’d be glad, it didn’t matter _how_ they would get there.

Fabrizio hadn’t mentioned it, and Ermal hoped at least that listening to the album could wait until tomorrow, as he wouldn’t be able to appreciate it in the state he was in now. And this was an honour that he wanted to really experience. The only thing was, Fabrizio hadn’t actually said how long Ermal was welcome to stay and therefore he didn’t know how much time they would have.

“Are Libero and Anita with you?” he asked.

“No, they’re at Giada’s. Do you really think I would have picked you up alone if they were with me? Anita wouldn’t let me!” Fabrizio laughed.

“And you think Anita won’t make your life very miserable when she finds out that I’ve been to Rome again, and again without seeing her? She still has to show me around, you know.”

“I’m supposed to pick up the children on the day after tomorrow, if you’re still here then, I’m happy to lend them both to you for a day,” Fabrizio told Ermal.

Before he could reply, or think too much about the _if_ – why wouldn’t he want to be here? Maybe Fabrizio would not want him to stay so long? – they had reached their destination and Fabrizio grabbed Ermal’s bag and opened the front door.

“Come on, make yourself at home, I’ll get you something to drink and start on dinner. It’ll be ready quickly, don’t worry.”

Ermal made himself comfortable at the table and sipped his water. Every time he offered to help, Fabrizio waved his comments away and said he had everything under control. Within fifteen minutes, they were eating dinner and Ermal told Fabrizio about his train journey. Then conversation changed to more cheerful topics, and Fabrizio told Ermal what Libero and Anita had been up to lately. The evening passed as their evenings together usually seemed to do, swiftly and comfortably, until they had an early night.

The next morning, they had breakfast together and Ermal wondered at how familiar it felt, how he felt at home. They’d only started their days together a handful of times, and yet it felt as if they’d done it for years.

Something was different though, this time. Fabrizio was fidgeting more than he usually did, and seemed nervous for some reason. Was it really only because Ermal would listen to his album? Ermal, who had loved Fabrizio’s songs since he first heard them? Did Fabrizio really think Ermal would do anything less than love his new work, especially now he knew the person behind the music, behind the lyrics?

Ermal tried to comfort Fabrizio, tried to make small talk and focus the other man’s thoughts on something else. He only partially succeeded, however, as Fabrizio was seemingly unable to shake his thoughts. And while his own mood was better than it had been last night, he also felt inhibited by some lingering nervousness.

When they had cleared the table, they stood in the kitchen in silence. It wasn’t awkward – no situation with Fabrizio had ever been awkward, as Ermal could recall, but it was something awfully close to it.

“Do you... Would you like to hear my new album now?” Fabrizio asked finally, shyly.

Ermal nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, of course, I would love to!”

He followed Fabrizio to his studio and took a seat on the sofa.

“Is it okay if I sit here, or…?” he asked a bit uncertainly. Fabrizio’s nerves were rubbing off on him. But now he was here, he felt excitement bubble up in his chest as well. Here he was, in the house of Fabrizio Moro, about to listen – as the first person – to his new music. It was like a dream, and he wondered what he had ever done to deserve all this. And still, it wasn’t enough for him, he still wanted more, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him. How could he be so selfish to _still_ want more, when he had been given so much already? – No, no, no, he was not going to think like this, he was going to enjoy this experience. Focusing firmly on that bubbling feeling of excitement, he looked at Fabrizio.

“If you’re ready, I am too. You know, Fabrizio, I don’t think I told you yet, but I’m so honoured that you want me to listen to it!”

Ermal had intended this as assurance that of course he would love it, no matter what it was. Fabrizio _knew_ Ermal had his albums at home, there was no reason at all to believe he wouldn’t like it. And yet, Fabrizio possibly looked even more nervous than before. Ermal watched him swallow heavily.

“Okay, I’ll just start it then,” Fabrizio said, and pressed _play_. He then proceeded to take a seat next to Ermal, and Ermal could feel his eyes on him. Well, Fabrizio was a braver man than Ermal was if he was going to _watch_ his reaction. This thought disappeared quickly, however, as the music started and Ermal could only concentrate on that, almost forgetting Fabrizio was there at all.

The first song started out slow, sounds of piano keys filling the room. Fabrizio’s voice started, and, oh, how Ermal loved his voice. Listening to him talking was nice, but singing was something else entirely.

Ermal was listening breathlessly, immersed in the music. And the lyrics – he always loved Fabrizio’s lyrics, sometimes it seemed as if the singer had taken thoughts right out of Ermal’s head and wrote them down. Listening to those songs made him feel less alone, made him feel understood. So now too, Ermal paid special attention to the lyrics.

As the songs went on, Ermal forgot his surroundings completely. Little things in the lyrics just made him think back on the time he spent with Fabrizio. He mentally scolded himself, he really was too far gone if only Fabrizio’s voice started a flood of memories. But really, how could he help himself when Fabrizio sang things like _I would spend days running through the rain with you_ or _I spend hours on the phone instead of sleeping_? Ermal knew this meant nothing, they were clichés even – what relationship did not use phones, when was rain not used in some metaphor for love? – but he also knew that as soon as the album was out, he would sit in his living room playing it over and over again.

The next song started out with a seductive beat and Fabrizio’s voice was lower than ever as he sang _The smell of books, the taste of wine, you take my hand and lead me up the stairs_. Of course, this reminded Ermal of that first evening, how could it not? But the rest of the lyrics did not, definitely not, but they made him blush. The images Fabrizio was describing was definitely not what had happened that evening, but Ermal liked it, liked it a lot… He really should get a grip on himself, before things got embarrassing.

Following this was another slow song, with a sad vibe. Ermal already loved it, but he got a shock when listening to the lyrics, _they tell me dying is forbidden, so I keep living with this hole in my chest_ and _they tell me to rewrite the stars, but don’t tell me how it’s done_. Had Fabrizio really remembered his poem? And got inspired by it? But it was such a sad song, about unrequited love, while his poem was meant to give hope, send a positive message that bad things could be overcome. Suddenly, a thought clicked into place in his head. Mentioning the rain, the books, the wine, the phone calls, what if it wasn’t a coincidence at all? What if Fabrizio had done it on purpose? Turning Vietato Morire into a sad love song, what if it _meant_ something? Ermal sat frozen on the couch, the thoughts fluttering through his head. Of course not, of course it wouldn’t mean anything – at least not what he hoped it did, he was just imagining things, seeing connections that weren’t there, just because he wished they were.

The songs started to pass in a blur, only some lyrics standing out clearly and resounding through Ermal’s head.

 

_The doubts are always here, my mind is never quiet,_

_But when you run your fingers through my hair my thoughts pause,_

_And I can live in this moment with you_

_All roads lead to Rome and all I ever did led me to us_

_Playing like children, having the time of our lives,_

_Believing holidays never end_

He noticed that all these references to places they’d been or things they’d done (if they were references, honestly, it probably was all a coincidence, and his overactive, love-sick mind turned it into something more) were so _subtle_. They were there, yes, but never in the chorus, never repeated, only mentioned once in a verse or a bridge… Was he imagining this? Or was it real? Was Fabrizio trying to _tell_ him something? Ermal was thrown between hope and despair, until he finally noticed the music had stopped.

He should say something, Fabrizio had been so nervous already (the nerves, was it because he knew what he was doing, had he planned this?), Ermal couldn’t just say nothing. But no words came, and he couldn’t even look at Fabrizio. His mind was still going in circles. What if this was real, what if it wasn’t just wishful thinking? But then, what if it was? What if, right now, he was making the biggest fool of himself that he ever could?

The room was quiet for a while, neither man wanted to be the first to break the heavy silence. Then finally, finally, Ermal decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fabri?” he whispered, not daring to look up and meet Fabrizio’s eyes.

“Yes,” Fabrizio answered, or attempted to answer, because even on the short word his voice broke.

Somehow, this gave Ermal enough courage to continue on this path, a path that might end in disaster, but maybe, possibly, had a small chance of bringing him – them? – happiness. Did he really dare to hope?

“I couldn’t help but… notice… certain parts of the songs, they seemed to…” he faltered a bit, it wasn’t too late yet, he could still go back, back to safety. But, he wondered, at this point, wouldn’t he regret not knowing more than whatever might happen next?

“They seemed to… I recognized them, like they described things that happened to me – to us. Is that just a… just a coincidence?”

Ermal kept looking at the floor, still not wanting to meet Fabrizio’s eyes, scared of what he might see there. However, out of the corner of his eye, he could just see Fabrizio tracing the _pace_ tattoo on his hand, something he only did when he was nervous. But then, he had been nervous all morning, this didn’t tell Ermal _anything_. It felt like eras passed before Fabrizio answered.

“No, no, they’re not a coincidence. I’ve been wanting to tell you something – but I didn’t know how, and-”

Fabrizio stopped talking and took a deep breath. He turned to Ermal, but before he could continue, Ermal spoke.

“Fabrizio?”

Ermal waited until Fabrizio finally looked him in the eyes. His heart was beating so fast, and he was scared, so scared. But he was also almost certain. Almost.

“Me too.”

Fabrizio only looked at him, not even blinking. Ermal didn’t know what to say next, what to do next. Was it then all a mistake after all? If only Fabrizio would react in _any_ way. Maybe he should have waited for Fabrizio to say what he wanted to tell him. He looked back at Fabrizio, frozen in place.

Ever so slowly, the distance between them was becoming smaller. And smaller. Until it disappeared completely, and Ermal could feel Fabrizio’s lips softly against his. Just for a second, then they disappeared.

Finally, Ermal was again capable of moving his body. He felt heat spread from his lips through his whole body, to the very tips of his toes. Gradually, his brain was catching up with what was happening. His hope hadn’t been in vain? Fabrizio actually felt the same for him? He couldn’t believe it. One of his hands found those of Fabrizio, and Ermal leaned slightly back to gauge Fabrizio’s reaction. Maybe it had been a mistake? The other man looked shocked, but his mouth formed a smile, and that was all Ermal needed to see. Slowly, he cupped Fabrizio’s face with his free hand, and then leaned in again, this time for a deeper kiss.

When they finally broke apart, but not completely, their foreheads were still touching, Ermal sighed and whispered, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

Ermal felt so peaceful, the doubts finally quiet – just like in the song, his mind supplied helpfully. He couldn’t believe this was really happening, it felt like a dream, but even his dreams hadn’t been this good.

“How long?” came a breathless reply from Fabrizio.

“I realised it first the last time I was here, when you were talking in Roman and I couldn’t understand a word.”

“I remember,” Fabrizio told him, “You were acting a bit strange.”

“I tried so hard to act normally,” Ermal said, tracing the tattoos on Fabrizio’s arm. “But what about you then? Did you have some great moment of revelation?”

“I didn’t actually, I couldn’t tell you the place or the moment when I fell for you. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

Ermal was pretty sure his heart couldn’t take this, hearing this perfect man saying he _fell_ for him. He really needed to steal another kiss. Or maybe two. But then he just wanted an answer to a specific question.

“But Fabri, why... Why tell me like this?”

“In the lyrics, it was all in the details. I mean, apart from the lyrics inspired by your poem – I’ll obviously credit you for those, if you allow me to keep them in – but all the other things were really small. I thought, if you wouldn’t notice all those details, if you didn’t react to that, I’d have my answer. Then I’d know that our time together didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me. I would know how you felt about this – about us, without ever having to admit that my feelings were so different.”

“You don’t know what you made me suffer through just now. I got hopeful, but I was so afraid it was all in my mind,” Ermal said, hugging Fabrizio like a koala bear. He was never going to let this man go, not now he knew they felt the same. His heart felt like bursting, all those pent up feelings trying to get out at once.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do,” Fabrizio muttered, returning the hug, and Ermal could feel a hand stroking his hair.

“To be honest, at least you did something, I just carried on pretending all was fine. But so many times I almost revealed everything. But I was so afraid of ruining our friendship.”

“You know, what gave me the courage to really do this was your poem.”

Ermal hid his face in Fabrizio’s chest.

“Oh no, that poem. Do you still have it? Can you show it to me? – Can you believe I actually sent it by accident? I don’t even remember what it says and how ridiculous it is.”

Fabrizio chuckled. “You sent it by accident? Really? And here I thought you were the romantic soul writing love poems about me.”

He meant it as a joke, but when Ermal stayed quiet and only turned bright red in response, Fabrizio realized what was going on.

“You actually wrote love poems about me?”

Ermal sighed, he really did not want to remember this. “Yes. On the train home. I told you, I realized my feelings when I was with you in Rome, I just had to get everything out of my head. So I spent the whole four ours scribbling down poetry – no not just poetry, also just terrible, awful rhymes. I swear, I never meant to sent you any of it. When I got your text thanking me for the poem I just about had a heart attack.”

“It’s okay, Ermal, I would not make fun of you for this. Remember who wrote the album full of love songs you just listened to.”

“Well, about that,” Ermal said, “About halfway through I had a bit of a crisiss, and there was some inner debate going on… I must admit I don’t really remember much of it. Can we please listen to it one more time? So I can really appreciate it?”

“Of course, I’ll start it again.”

Together, sitting as closely together as laws of nature would allow, hands tracing tattoos, fingers running through curls, they listened to each of the songs again, pausing in between songs to talk about the memories each song brought to mind. They relived the times they met, the holidays, the phone calls. And this time they were actually honest about their feelings. Ermal loved each part of it, and he loved each song so much. He loved Fabrizio so much. He was pretty sure that his eyes turned to heart-shaped ones whenever he looked at Fabrizio.

When finally the music had stopped completely, Fabrizio pulled Ermal in for another kiss, and then got up.

“I’ll get us a drink, yes? I think we have something to celebrate.”

With a wink – honestly, Ermal thought, a wink? – he walked out of the studio, towards the kitchen.

As soon as Ermal was alone, the doubts crept in – this time not about Fabrizio’s feelings, he was sure about those now, not even about his own feelings, he had known his heart for months now, but doubts about the future, _their_ future. How were they going to make this work? They lived on opposite sides of the country, Fabrizio had his job, he had his bookshop, they weren’t free to go and do as they pleased. And the children, Ermal realized with a shock, what would be his role there? He loved the children, and he knew Libero and Anita liked him, but would they still?

He hadn’t noticed Fabrizio coming back, until he felt a hand caressing his face.

“What are you worrying about?” Fabrizio asked him softly.

“Nothing,” Ermal answered, not wanting to spoil the moment with his stupid fears. Fabrizio just kissed him gently and insisted, “Tell me.”

“I was thinking about… the future, about us,” Ermal admitted quietly.

“Hush, we will figure it out. We have time, and we can make it work. Don’t worry about it, _amore_ , we will find a way, I know that.”

Ermal let himself be comforted by that, it was true, they had time and they did not have to decide everything right now. It would work out, it would be fine. They had made it this far. He tried to get back to that feeling of weightlessness, _happiness_. He and Fabrizio, together, returning each other’s feelings, it was a miracle. After those weeks and weeks of trying to ignore what he felt, finally he could let it free, because _Fabrizio felt the same_. He basked in that realization, finally his heart was at peace.

They sat together for a bit in silence, sipping their wine, before Fabrizio asked, “Speaking of time, how long can you stay? I know you have the shop, so it can’t be long, I understand.”

“I can stay at least a week,” Ermal replied, “I think I can push it to two weeks – a few unhappy customers is definitely worth it, worth spending time with you – if that’s okay of course,” he added, not wanting to overstay his welcome.

“I would be very happy to have you here that long,” Fabrizio told him.

“I’d love to stay. Though, I must say, I didn’t pack for a two week holiday.”

“No worries, you can borrow my clothes,” Fabrizio suggested.

“As long as I don’t have to wear your awful hats, that’s okay,” Ermal said with a cheeky grin and a glance at Fabrizio.

“Don’t you dare hate my hats like that, don’t forget that my hat brought us to this day!”

Realization hit Ermal at once, though he could hardly believe it.

“Are you saying that you left your hat in my shop on purpose?”       

“I can’t deny that I would have been happy to get to know a certain bookstore owner better,” Fabrizio admitted with a smile. “It was a means to an end. A good end, I must say.”

“First you left your hat and then a note in a cd – is there anything else that you ‘lost’ at my place that I should know about?”

“Yes,” Fabrizio said, “My heart.”

Ermal kissed him, just to shut him up. Well, and because he finally could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~The End~
> 
> Okay, I might have gotten carried away a bit with this final chapter of over 5K. But I had fun writing it! I had fun writing this whole story, which I had planned to be only a one shot. I want to thank all of you who commented and asked for more, because without you this would not have happened. I loved reading each and every comment you left, you are all so kind and you have made me blush so many times. Thank you! <3


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